


Rovinsky Week Day 1: Dreams // Nightmares

by Miss_Daydreamer



Category: Raven Cycle - Maggie Stiefvater
Genre: Dreams, Kissing, Kissing in cars, M/M, Rovinsky Week, Substance Abuse, also i didnt end up writing the other days sry, first work pls leave roasting to a minimum
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-29
Updated: 2018-05-29
Packaged: 2019-05-15 15:44:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 790
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14793341
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Miss_Daydreamer/pseuds/Miss_Daydreamer
Summary: Spending another night in a car with Kavinsky, Ronan thinks he's dreaming and lets himself go





	Rovinsky Week Day 1: Dreams // Nightmares

“You know, this would be more fun if you got high too.”

Kavinsky’s voice cut a hole through the stop-light lit darkness, from where his head with its sunken eyes and drug-dried lips hung out the window of the Mitsubishi. The rest of him was sprawled across the rest of the car, his limbs spread in every direction, thoughtless, careless and absolutely reckless. Much like the beat of Ronan’s heart when faced with a lap full of one of Kavinsky’s too-skinny legs.

“Where the fuck did you get the idea that I care about what you think would be fun?”

“Don’t bullshit me, Lynch, you always come running at the rev of an engine, you’re just a little bitch about the more exciting stuff.”

He had a point, but Ronan was never going to admit that. He would sooner drive full speed off a cliff. Not that Kavinsky wouldn’t try to egg him into doing it. Shit. The car felt too warm, and too big and too small all at once. Rolling the windows down hadn’t helped. Virginia nights were unforgiving.

There were no lights nearby, except for that of the ever-shifting red, amber, green, red, amber, green, red, amber, _green_ , throwing the car into soft and harsh contrast, throwing Kavinsky into soft and harsh contrast, never more-so a skeleton than now, his toothy, shit-eating grin savage and the bottle of pills in his hand practically glowing with artificial colours and dreamt-up highs. Even the soft haze of light at the end of Kavinsky’s joint had burnt out, the butt tossed dismissively at Ronan’s head, but the smell lingered in his nostrils, swept this way and that by the occasional empty plane breeze that stole through the empty, too full space and sent shivers up his spine.

_This is a dream_

It must be. It wouldn’t be the first time a ride in the Mitsubishi ended with him jerking from the clutches of insomnia fuelled unconsciousness, despite his every last shred of common sense screaming to let his guard down around Kavinsky, who was more snake than boy. But this didn’t seem to be a nightmare kind of dream. This seemed to be the type that he always tried to forget about when he woke up, tried to stop thinking about when he closed his eyes. Kavinsky, just Kavinsky, ugly and hollow and so dangerously gorgeous with his raw, hungry eyes and his shared secret with Ronan that _we are not like the others._

His leg was still in Ronan’s lap.

But now so was the other one.

His torso had curled so his head was no longer out the window, it was leaned towards Ronan, one hand on the dashboard and one dangling by the elbow off the edge of Ronan’s seat, the pills held loosely by mere fingertips.

Ronan’s heart kept beating, thoughtless, careless and absolutely reckless.

_This is a dream._

The combination of sweat and humidity had made Kavinsky’s hair gel long since lose its hold, strands of his dark hair falling in his face, others still sticking up at odd angles from where the adrenaline and speed had whipped it as they had raced to this intersection, and the shadowy space that exists behind stop-lights in the dark. The urge rushed through Ronan for split second to brush the strands out of Kavinsky’s eyes. He snarled internally. Even in dreams wants like that are bad ideas. He settled for watching Kavinsky’s hand run through his hair, his fingers odd and knobbly and long. Ronan let himself have that much. It was only a dream after all.

The light was red. Kavinsky was only a bare inch away, hot breath just short puffs, scarcely there on his lips.

The light was amber. Kavinsky’s began to sink away from the effort of supporting itself.

The light was green. But Ronan didn’t see that because his eyes were pressed tightly shut against the feeling of Kavinsky’s cracked but warm mouth and tongue on his neck, right at the pulse, working down in soft licks and suction, and back up again. So he had been sagging for another reason then. A more purposeful one. One hand came up to twist in Kavinsky’s hair, to pull him away, but it was a half-hearted effort that made the other boy dive in harsher this time, not so much a comfort of intimacy as an accusation; _you want this, you want this, you want this._ Ronan’s other hand had drawn itself back through the window to grip Kavinsky’s thigh, hauling the boy just a little closer and drawing one of his feet off the dashboard to turn easier into him. Ronan let himself have that much. It was only a dream after all.

**Author's Note:**

> As mentioned in the tags, this is the first fanfic I've properly written, please be kind :) But I'm always up for constructive criticism.  
> If you liked the writing (or just the fandom) my trc blog is here  
> My general blog is here :)


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